


Failure by Design

by shions_heart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Beach Volleyball, Canon Compliant, Day At The Beach, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma finds himself roped into playing beach volleyball on what surely is the hottest day of the summer. Fortunately, he figures out a way to get out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Failure by Design

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skittidyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittidyne/gifts).



> This was written a while ago, but I neglected to post it. My first commission after my laptop broke and first attempt at writing on my phone. /)u(\
> 
> Enjoy!

Kenma doesn’t like summer. It’s too hot. His clothes get sticky, his hair gets frizzy, and there’s always _people_ milling about on vacation, seeing the sights of Tokyo with their loud families. For summer holiday, he generally prefers to stay indoors, in the A/C, avoiding all the annoyances of summer by playing his games.

Of course being friends (and now boyfriends) with Kuroo doesn’t always allow for that.

“Kenma!” Kuroo bursts into his room without knocking. Typical Kuroo behavior. “What are you doing? We’re going to be late. You don’t even have your shoes on!”

Kenma frowns down at his bare feet past the PSP in his hands. “I don’t want to go.”

“But you told me last week that you did!” Kuroo steps into the room, already dressed in his swim trunks, wearing a white sleeveless shirt over his top half, displaying the strong muscles in his arms to full extent. Kenma glances at them briefly before turning back to his game.

“When did I say that?”

“When I asked you, ‘hey Kenma, want to play some beach volleyball with Fukurodani next week?’ And you said ‘mm,’ which isn’t a no. You can’t tell me that was a no.” Kuroo grins triumphantly.

Kenma sighs. He really should’ve listened to the specific question. Slowly, he drags himself off the bed. He changed earlier into his own swim trunks and t-shirt (though his has normal sleeves seeing as he has no muscles he wants to show off), and he reaches to grab a light jacket to pull on as well.

“Are you wearing sunscreen?” Kuroo asks, as Kenma grabs his wide-brimmed sun hat. He pauses, frowning.

“I don’t like it.” Sunscreen is oily and feels gross on his skin.

“You also won’t like being horrifically sunburnt, so come on. I’ve got an extra bottle in my bag. I figured you wouldn’t put any on yourself.” Kuroo beckons for Kenma to follow him, but Kenma groans instead and sits down where he is on the floor.

“I don’t want to go. We always play volleyball.”

“But this is _beach_ volleyball, so it’s different. It’s on the beach!”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “Beach volleyball is on the beach? I had no idea.”

“Stop that,” Kuroo says, stepping over to him. He crouches down in front of him, ducking his head to look beneath the brim of Kenma’s hat. “Come on. It’ll be fun. I promise when the match is over we can come straight home and play some games. Okay?”

Kenma squints. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” Kuroo grins, holding out his hand.

Kenma wraps his pinky around Kuroo’s, allowing a small smile, and Kuroo stands, grabbing Kenma’s hand more fully to pull him to his feet. “If you’re going to stay covered up like that, then I’ll just put sunscreen on your face, okay?”

Kenma sighs. “Fine.”

He has to admit, though, that he likes the feel of Kuroo’s fingers on his face, the gentle sweep of them as they spread the sunscreen across his nose and cheeks, moving around his chin and forehead with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He turns his head to kiss at Kuroo’s wrist lightly, and Kuroo grins faintly.

“There you go, Kitten. All protected.”

Kenma’s stomach flutters at the nickname, and when Kuroo offers his hand, Kenma takes it, lacing his fingers through his. He’d be content with it being just the two of them on a trip to the beach, thinking sometimes that Kuroo’s all he needs to get through the day. It’s not that he doesn’t like his teammates or the members of the Fukurodani team. He does. They’re fine. But they don’t know him the way Kuroo does. They don’t know when he needs peace and quiet and when he needs to be distracted from his own thoughts. Kuroo does.

He supposes that’s why dating him has come so naturally. It feels like the next logical step in their relationship, a solidifying of their childhood agreement to never be apart. He likes the security in that, and as he thinks of this, he gives Kuroo’s hand a firm squeeze.

Kuroo looks down at him, smiling, and squeezes back. They walk to the bus stop together, and Kenma’s glad that his hat obscures most of his vision if he keeps his head down. It blocks him from anyone who might be staring (of course they’re probably not staring, his mind tells him, but if they are), and once they find seats, Kenma quickly slides in to sit next to the window, and Kuroo sits beside him.

“The rest of the team is probably already there,” he says, checking the time on his phone. “We’re running late.”

Kenma hunches forward. “Sorry.”

Kuroo glances over at him, surprised. “It’s okay! I mean, I doubt Bokuto will arrive on time anyway. How much product do you think he uses on his hair?”

Kenma tilts his head, pondering. “I’d say twenty-three minutes.”

Kuroo laughs. “That’s specific! I say forty-five minutes _minimum_.”

Kenma shakes his head. “He’s been styling his hair like that for years. He most likely has it down to a science.” He reaches up to flick a strand of Kuroo’s hair. “Not everyone can have a natural style like you.”

Kuroo grimaces, reaching up to attempt to flatten his hair. “If only I _did_ use product. Then at least I could _stop_ using it and look normal for once.”

Kenma laughs, his anxiety over being on a bus full of people fading. Kuroo smiles at him, and there’s something warm in his expression, something tender. It causes Kenma’s cheeks to heat up, and he turns his gaze away to stare out the window. His fingers itch to pull out his game, but he doesn’t want to run out of battery before they get to the beach. He’s hoping maybe when they get there the teams will be too distracted by the water and sunbathers to put together an actual volleyball match, and he can find a shady spot to sit and play his game.

Of course his luck couldn’t be that good.

As soon as they arrive on the beach, Kuroo spots the rest of the Nekoma volleyball team and pulls him over. Lev immediately rushes forward with a grin.

“Kenma! Hi!”

He bypasses Kuroo completely, wrapping his long arms around Kenma in a brief yet excited hug. Kenma quickly wiggles out of it.

“Lev, it’s been two days.”

“I know, but two days is so long! I missed you!”

Kenma tries not to feel pleased by that, reminding himself that Lev is annoying. He turns to frown up at Kuroo, who is barely suppressing a laugh.

Yaku steps up, grabbing the back of Lev’s shirt and pulling him back. “Fukurodani is already here,” he says. “We’re just waiting on you.”

“We’re going to take them down!” Yamamoto yells, whipping off his shirt to display a muscle pose.

Behind him, Inuoka bounces on his toes, and Fukunaga paws at the air. 

Kenma sighs, turning to Kuroo. “I changed my mind.”

Kuroo grins. “It’ll be fun. One quick game. I promise.”

“One game,” Kenma agrees, hoping that it doesn’t stretch out longer than thirty minutes.

The net has already been set up, and he can see Fukurodani’s team stretching on the far side. Kenma sets down his bag and hat, reluctantly taking off his jacket to set on top of them. He joins Kuroo to stretch, glancing across the net to where Bokuto and Akaashi are stretching. Akaashi catches his gaze and smiles faintly, nodding in greeting. Kenma nods back, before his vision is obscured by Bokuto bounding up to the net to grin at him and Kuroo.

“You’re going down, Kuroo!” he declares. “I’m pumped up today!”

“Don’t get too cocky,” Kuroo says with a smirk. “A cat always catches its prey.”

“Well, this owl isn’t going to be prey today, Mr. Whiskers!”

“Bring it on, Beak-Face!”

Kenma rolls his eyes.

The match begins, and Kenma can tell immediately that it’s going to go long. It’s harder to move in the sand, but his teammates and those on Fukurodani learn to compensate pretty quickly, adjusting to the shift beneath their feet. The only one who really struggles is Lev, who falls on his face multiple times while Yaku yells at him to watch how he jumps.

The volleys last long, and neither side gives the other a chance to advance more than two points ahead of the other. Kenma can feel the sweat sticking his shirt to his back, plastering his hair to his face. There are no clouds in the sky, and the sun is shining brightly, pounding heat against the players. He can feel it sapping his energy, and he has no idea how Lev keeps bouncing to his feet, or Kuroo keeps leaping to block Bokuto over and over again. It’s exhausting to watch. He’s not sure he can keep up anymore.

Bokuto makes it past Kuroo’s block, but Yaku sends it back up with his receive.

“Kenma!” he shouts.

Kenma blinks up at the ball, squinting as it passes in front of the sun. He can tell by its trajectory where it’s going to fall, and he moves under it. He knows that they’re up by one, about to go into deuce if Fukurodani manages to return this. Yamamoto runs up for the spike, and Fukurodani hurries to block. Kenma jumps, his fingers connecting with the ball, and he dumps it over the net. Akaashi dives to cover, but it hits the sand inches from his fingers. As Kenma lands, he feels the sand give beneath his foot. With a small cry, he crumples, his ankle twisting awkwardly.

Immediately the game halts.

“Kozume-kun?” Akaashi’s voice is soft yet laced in worry, as he sits up from his spot on the ground directly across from him.

“Kenma!” Kuroo drops to the ground beside him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“My ankle . . .” Kenma slowly extends his leg, looking down at it. There’s a faint sting, nothing too serious, but he wonders if he can use this to his advantage.

“Let me see it,” Kuroo says, hovering his hands over the joint. He presses lightly on the skin, feeling for any swelling. Kenma hisses softly when he comes to the spot where it stings, biting his lip quickly then and ducking his head.

“I’m fine,” he says.

“We should ice it,” Kuroo says firmly, moving to pick him up. Cradling him to his chest, Kuroo turns to look at the others. “Inuoka, cover for me.”

“R-right!” Inuoka jogs up to the net, looking somewhat pale.

“We still need a setter!” Lev points out.

Kuroo frowns. “Right. Shibayama!”

The small first year starts, eyes wide. “Y-yes?”

“Fill in for Kenma.”

“B-But I’m a libero!”

“Well, you’re going to have to be a setter today.” Kuroo turns away, as Kai begins to pull his team back together.

“Come on guys, we can’t let this break our streak,” he says encouragingly.

Kenma looks up at Kuroo’s face, guilt twisting in his stomach. “This is embarrassing,” he says softly.

Kuroo glances down at him, raising an eyebrow. “Would you rather walk on that ankle?”

Kenma considers this a moment before shaking his head and wrapping his arms around Kuroo’s neck. He presses his face into his shoulder, breathing a soft sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Kuroo insists. “Let’s just make sure your ankle is okay.”

Kenma doesn’t reply, knowing that he’s probably letting the team down by allowing Kuroo to take him away from the game. As much as he doesn’t like playing in the heat, he doesn’t like disappointing people either.

“I did it on purpose,” he says quietly.

Kuroo pauses. “What?”

“I landed wrong on purpose,” Kenma says, looking away. “I didn’t want to play anymore.”

Kuroo huffs through his nose. “You could’ve just said you wanted to stop, Kenma.”

Kenma shakes his head. No, he couldn’t have. He’d have to see his team’s disappointment, hear their complaints, the pressure to set just one more time, help them score one more point. And he’s so _tired_. They’d been playing over an hour. But despite that fact, he couldn’t look his teammates in the eye and tell them he couldn’t do it anymore.

“You give your all during our practices and actual matches. Nobody would fault you for not wanting to push yourself during the holidays,” Kuroo reasons, beginning to walk again toward the lifeguard hut.

Kenma stays silent, not sure he believes that when he knows how excited they all get to play.

“Even if we lose to Bokuto today, we’ll have other chances to kick his ass, don’t worry.” Kuroo grins, stepping up to the door of the hut. He kicks the doorfame lightly with his foot until the employee looks up. “Hey, can we get some ice? My boyfriend twisted his ankle.”

Kenma’s face burns, and he keeps his eyes on his knees, as the lifeguard hurries to get him a baggy of ice. Kuroo thanks him, and Kenma takes the ice, seeing as Kuroo’s hands are full.

“Let’s go see how the team is doing,” Kuroo says, heading back toward the game.

Turns out they’re struggling in the second set, Fukurodani taking the lead. Kuroo sets Kenma down by his things, placing the ice on his ankle and kissing the side of his face before jumping up to join the team. With his help they’re able to get the points back up, but it’s clear that Shibayama just doesn’t have the skill set to be a good setter. Kenma frowns, as time and again he fumbles the toss, pushing the ball too low or too close to the net.

Frustrated, Kenma calls for a timeout and gestures for Shibayama to come to him. His teammate flinches, eyes on the ground, as he crouches beside him.

“I’m sorry, Kenma, I know I’m messing up. I don’t know how to be a setter.”

Kenma shakes his head. “You’re worrying too much. You have to focus on where you want the ball to go. It’s like receiving. You aim toward the setter or the spiker when you receive, right?”

Shibayama nods quickly.

“It’s like that, only you’re using a different technique. Just get the ball toward the spiker. Kai and Taketora will take care of the rest.”

“R-Right!" Shibayama jumps to his feet, returning to the game.

Kuroo glances at him curiously, and Kenma gives him a thumbs up in response. Kuroo grins, fire flashing in his eyes, and with Shibayama more confident in his role, Nekoma’s team is able to take back their points. They end the second set 27-25. Instantly, the team hurries to Kenma’s side, asking how he’s doing, offering to get him ice cream, a soda, or some apple pie, but Kenma shakes his head to all of this, looking at Kuroo instead.

“Okay, okay, give him some space,” Kuroo says, moving to kneel beside Kenma. “What do you want?”

“You,” Kenma says softly.

Kuroo grins, glancing up at the team. “You heard the man. Shoo.” He waves the others away, and they go, grumbling. Kenma watches, as they shake hands with Fukurodani and then head for the water, all of them eager to cool off.

Kuroo sits in the sand next to Kenma, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Whatever you said to Shibayama worked. He seemed a lot more confident in himself. Such a good senpai.” He grins.

Kenma shakes his head. “He was doing so badly I was getting frustrated.”

Kuroo laughs. “You do care about volleyball,” he teases, reaching up to flick a piece of Kenma’s hair.

Kenma lifts his shoulders. “I don’t like losing.”

Kuroo moves to take his hand, running his thumb over his knuckles gently. “Well, I’m grateful you decided to help out. I didn’t want to hear Bokuto bragging about this all week long.”

Kenma watches Kuroo’s thumb, biting his lip gently. “Kuro . . . if I said I didn't want to play volleyball in college, would you be disappointed with me?”

Kuroo’s thumb pauses, and Kenma glances up toward his face. He's frowning faintly, and when he catches Kenma's gaze he shakes his head.

“No, of course not. I want you to do what makes you happy, Kenma. And if volleyball isn’t something that will make you happy as a career, then I don’t want you to do it.”

“I just . . . I like playing it with you. But I don’t think I’d like it by myself.” Kenma turns his hand over, lacing his fingers with Kuroo’s. “I’m going to keep playing next year, though.” He gives Kuroo a faint smile. “I’m going to make you proud of me.”

“I’m already proud of you,” Kuroo says, lifting Kenma’s hand to kiss his fingers gently. He grins then. “Even if you did try to sabotage our game today.”

Kenma frowns, punching him lightly with his other hand. Kuroo laughs. “Come on, I’ll make things up to you. Can you stand?” 

“Why?”

“We’re getting some mochi before we head home.”

Kenma’s instantly on his feet, despite the light sting. Kuroo laughs, picking up Kenma’s bag and slinging it over his shoulder, before taking Kenma’s hat and setting it gently on his head.

“You’re so cute,” he says, ducking under the hat to give Kenma a quick kiss.

Kenma’s face burns, acutely aware of every single person at the beach just then. Kuroo grins, taking his hand again and pulling him gently toward the boardwalk where shops line the sand. Despite the ever present heat, Kenma already likes this day better. As much as he’d enjoy sitting under the A/C playing his game, walking hand-in-hand with Kuroo to get mochi isn’t bad either. He likes the shivering feeling in his chest the contact gives him even now. He likes knowing Kuroo would rather get ice cream with him than play in the surf with the others. And he likes the way Kuroo keeps glancing down at him with a soft smile that gives birth to butterflies in his stomach.

He squeezes Kuroo’s hand hard.

“You okay?” Kuroo asks, squeezing his hand in return.

Kenma nods, smiling faintly.

He supposes leaving the house didn’t turn out so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


End file.
